


masturbation is better with a friend

by nastyboy



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Smut, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastyboy/pseuds/nastyboy
Summary: The last of the wine settling low in his gut helps him decide that masturbation is thebestidea he's ever had, or will ever have.





	masturbation is better with a friend

**Author's Note:**

> another silly little something, enjoy

Tobirama fidgets his fingers along his kitchen table, tappa tappa tap. The wine glass in front of him is nearly empty, and the bottle in front of that is completely empty. The bottom of a bottle is always an unexpected disappointment. He had popped it, drank it, and now he doesn't know what he's going to do once it's gone. He up ends the bottle over his cup, and is severely upset when not even a drop more slides out. He picks up the glass, carelessly bringing it to his mouth so he can sip at the wine sloshing around in it mournfully, delaying the inevitable.

It glides smooth down his throat, almost cloying in it's sweetness, yet delicious all the same. Tobirama feels mostly relaxed, weightless where he sits in a way that lets him know he's thoroughly drunk. He squirms in his seat as the warmth of the wine settles in his stomach, stirring his slumbering libido into a low, insistent flame. He lowers his head into the crook of his elbow, fingers combing into his hair, and legs spreading under the table as he slumps forward with the abruptness of his arousal. He shifts one thigh off the chair, scooting closer to the leftmost edge. His hips angle down so he can feel the firm press of the cushion against his vulva. His memory drags up images of long dark hair and dark eyes, an infuriating smirk curling kissable lips and a muscled back. 

Tobirama moans softly, "Mm, Madara..." It has definitely been longer than he thought if he's already this aroused from an errant thought and the barest bit of chair humping. Tobirama tips his head back, opening his eyes to look at the empty bottle, and the nigh empty glass next to it. He sloppily downs what's left in the glass. The last of the wine settling low in his gut helps him decide that masturbation is the best idea he's ever had, or will ever have. 

Tobirama's hips stay enticingly flush to the chair for a while longer. He releases his glass, and runs his hand over his chest instead, slipping it under his shirt to play along the tender skin there. He sighs, teeth sinking into his lip at the spark of pleasure when he teases one nipple briefly then the other. He spreads his legs wider, grinding harder into the chair below him. His breath hitches around another louder moan when a grind times perfectly with his clumsy fingers running along his breasts, and he feels a pang of arousal deep in his vagina.

Tobirama whines pitifully when he feels his vagina clench around nothing but air; he needs something in him. His brain immediately conjures an image of Madara with an apparent erection tenting his pants. The rational part of his brain reminds him that he and Madara aren't close like that, but the vulva wants what it wants, and it really fucking wants. Besides Madara probably thinks he's hot, he'd be flattered at the idea of Tobirama getting off to thoughts of him.

Tobirama sways a little on his feet as he stands, but he catches himself on the wall, striding towards his room with purposeful steps as his vision swerves. He refrains from immediately collapsing on his bed, and detours to his nightstand. One short search later, he's on his back with lube and a dildo settled lovingly on the pillow next to him. His yukata falls open around him, exposing him to the chilled air of the room as he wiggles into the mattress to get comfortable. He looses a distraught noise when something jabs his kidney, fishing under the covers until he is able to grasp it. He pulls out his phone. 

"That's where it went."He murmurs. Tobirama stares dazedly at the bright screen when he unlocks it. His vagina reflexively clenches around nothing as he lies there, and he shivers, remembering the reason he had relocated to his room in the first place. He should call Madara. Masturbating is always more fun with somebody else. His fingers start navigating his phone rapidly, and by the time his brain catches up Madara's stubborn glare is staring him down with /dialing/ written in blinking letters across the top. He fumbles to set it on speaker phone, and manages just as the call connects.

There's a brief moment of silence then, "Hello...?"

Tobirama shivers at the natural roughness of Madara's voice; it makes him bite his lip even through the filter of a phone speaker. Tobirama drops the phone beside his head, letting his hands drift down to run across the skin on the insides of his thighs. He exhales a soft breath, digging his nails into his skin lightly to make himself moan.

" _Madara_."

Another silence, "Tobirama?" He moans Madara's name again, and gets an exasperated sigh for his trouble. "It is 11:49, and we both have work tomorrow. Why are you calling me?" 

"I want you. I'm so wet and I haven't even touched myself. It's just from thinking about you. I need something in me. Need you in me." Tobirama's hands move from his thigh to his hips unbidden, rubbing along the crease there as his nipples pebble, partially from arousal and partially from the cool air in the room.

"Is this a joke?" 

Tobirama whines needily into the phone. "No. I'm horny and I want you in me. C'mon, Madara, I wanna cum on your dick."

"Are you drunk?" 

"Yeah." Tobirama giggles honestly. "I wanted some wine with dinner, and I drank the whole bottle. Whoops."

Madara sighs aloud after a pause, "I'm gonna hang up now."

"No! Madara, please, I need, I need something. Please," Tobirama begs, voice edging on desperate as his fingers grazes his labia. He swipes up some of his wetness, and finally circles his fingers around his clit. His moan is loud, and he knows Madara can hear it. After a long moment of no response he's sure Madara has hung up, and he doesn't feel as desperately needy anymore. Tobirama pouts in upset, reaching over to grab the lube. He unscrews the cap, scooping out some of the cool gel then placing the container on his nightstand. He lubes up the dildo, trailing it in a slick line down his stomach so he can rub the soft bellend along his vulva. His lips part around a sweet moan, and his hips jump when the flare of the head catches his clit. He slips his still slick fingers down to sink into himself, stretching hastily with one, two and then three fingers. He removes his fingers, replacing them with the press of a cockhead, and offhandedly playing his lubed fingers over his clilt. His eyes close, and he readily imagines Madara above him, hair wild and hands pushing his legs farther open. He's pleasantly surprised when Madara speaks up.

"Are you touching yourself?"

Tobirama lets out a happy noise as his stomach jumps with a bout of lust, "Yeah, a little bit." 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm touching my clit, and I was about to fuck myself."

"With what?" Tobirama feels himself clench up again as the anticipatory excitement builds again in his gut. His entrance flutters against the head of the dildo, and he wants so badly to simply thrust it in, but he takes it slow. He turns his head to face his phone, moaning out as he increases the pressure so the head is just barely sliding into him.

"With a dildo." 

"You already got yourself ready?" Madara purrs with slight awe, and Tobirama can feel his face warm. 

"I rushed it." 

"Are you too horny to do it properly? Or do you like to feel it when someone is fucking you open?"

"Like to, like to feel it," He gasps out as the fattest part of the head dips into him, chest heaving with his harsh exhales while his cunt throbs blissfully. His still lube sticky hand stroke more firmly over his clit, a shiver passing through him. 

"But what if I took my time with you? Opened you up slow and gentle, and made sure you were loose enough to just slide right in before I fucked you. Do you want that? Do you want me to take my time with your sweet cunt?"

The shaft widens as it sinks further and further into Tobirama, and the stretch makes him gasp, legs twitching across the sheets as burning pleasure spills down his spine with Madara's words. His fingers flick in faster circles over his clit, a keening moan falling from his lips. He dimly realizes that Madara has stopped talking, but his brain is fried with how ridiculously aroused he is. He slows his hand so he can gather his thoughts enough to respond to whatever question Madara posed.

"Please," Madara's rumbling laughter carries scratchily through over the line, trickling hot like lava to fan the flames of arousal between Tobirama's thighs. He can feel slickness pooling out of him around the dildo to drip over his asshole, and soak into the cotton of his yukata under him, as he pulls the dildo out. The head tugs at his entrance, and he thrust it back in, moaning as he’s filled entirely again. He holds the flared base flush against himself, keeping the thick dildo balls deep as he Madara continues talking.

"If I had known you sounded so good moaning for me, I would have suggested this earlier. The sounds you make-- God. I wish I was with you so I could spread you out beneath me and make you scream with just my tongue." Tobirama chokes out a strangled groan at the image of Madara's head buried between his thighs, strong hands wrapped over them to keep Tobirama still as he goes to town on his cunt. "Oh, sounds like you'd like that. I bet I could spend hours between your thighs. I'd wake you up with the smell of coffee and the feeling of my tongue against you. You could come to my office during our lunch break, so I could eat my fill before continuing with my work. Or maybe I'd go to your office, and sit under your desk with my mouth on your cunt as you tried to do your work."

"Uhn, _Madara_ ," Tobirama thighs jerk harder as he rapidly approaches the cliff's edge of his pleasure. He withdraws the dildo, beginning hard, shallow thrusts that drive him even closer to his orgasm. His fingers stroke over his clit in rhythmic pushes now, and he can’t help but bear down on the dildo in him. It presses hard against his favorite spot as he fucks it in again, and he chokes out a strangle noise. 

"Are you close?" Tobirama moans out a plea, and he can hear the smirk in Madara's voice at his desperation. "I know you want to cum around my dick, but that'll have to wait. A toy will have to do for now. Fuck yourself hard as you cum for me. I know you want to, so fucking do it." 

Tobirama is unceremoniously shoved into his undoing as Madara's voice dips into a razor sharp growl in his ear. He thrusts the dildo as deep as it'll go, planting his feet on the bed so he can have leverage to grind down. Tobirama's back arches off the bed as his hips tilt down into his hand, chasing the waves of pleasure washing over him. He's moaning out between every harsh pant, and his thighs clamp shut against the onslaught, though slim fingers keep playing along his oversensitive clit regardless. He's sure he could barrel right into a second orgasm if he gentles his touch into something slow and sweet, but he doesn't, just shuts his eyes tight as the pleasure jolts into the painful side of too much, and his orgasm staves off into a gorgeous afterglow. He basks in the hazy feeling, vagina fluttering around the toy as aftershocks roll through his tired body. He carefully slides the dildo out of his cunt, dropping it to the bed without thought. He exhales a contented breath, body warm and still pleasantly thrumming, as he folds his hands over his stomach and stretches his legs flat on the bed.

Tobirama relaxes fully into the mattress with sated sleepiness. He can hear Madara calling his name, the end turned up in a question, but it's distant. He turns over, eyes catching the light of his phone screen through the droop of his lashes before his eyelids slip full closed. Madara’s voice fades out entirely as sleep overcomes him. 

>>>

When Tobirama wakes in the morning, he's greeted by the makes of a wicked hangover; headache, nausea, dry mouth, and hazy pieces of memories. He groans as he levers himself to sit up. Something rolls into his hip as he stretches; a dildo that he clearly used the night before and neglected to clean before falling asleep. His face pinches in distaste. As he stands he can feel a stickiness between his thighs that makes him grimace and a soreness he takes sated pleasure in. Clearly, it's been too long if the aftermath is telling of anything. 

He stalks into the bathroom, letting the water warm up as he pees then cleans the dildo. He sets it on a towel to dry then makes quick work of a shower. He feels better without the mess between his legs, but he still needs to rehydrate himself. He dresses efficiently, and heads into the kitchen after grabbing his phone. He checks the time once he's got a water bottle open, and he’s sipping from it idly. It's not yet 7:30, and he's got one new text message. He opens it, taking a seat at the table, while his other hand snatches an apple from the fruit bowl. He pauses just before taking a bite out of his apple, brow furrowing, when he sees the text is from Madara of all people.

_you owe me_

Tobirama rolls his eyes in exasperation; it's too early in the morning to deal with that man's dramatics. He'll hassle Madara about his short, weirdly cryptic text later. He pushes it to the back burner of his mind, and leaves for work after finishing his water.

 

It isn't until lunch that Tobirama has time to track down Madara. The man is unsurprisingly in his office. He knocks once before opening the door to Madara's office and striding in. Madara doesn't immediately look up, but his face does pull into his usual glare as he holds up one finger. Tobirama sighs, crossing his arms over his chest to wait. He about to start tapping his foot to draw Madara attention, but Madara finally looks up. Madara's glare slips into a smirk when he sees him, and Tobirama is immediately wary. He purposefully smashes down the part of his brain that fawns over how handsome that smirk makes Madara look, instead narrowing his eyes at the Uchiha. Neither of them speak for a long moment, both rather engaged in the stand off between them. Eventually, Tobirama gets fed up.

"'You owe me.' What is that suppose to mean?" 

Madara's eyebrow ticks up, "How much do you remember from last night?"

"Not much."

"Right. Do you remember drinking a bottle of wine by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember calling me?"

When Tobirama concentrates he can just picture Madara's icon scowling down at him as the phone rings, "I think so."

"Do you remember passing out after I talked you through a mind blowing orgasm?" 

Tobirama sputters, pink blush light, yet apparent as it crosses his nose. "There's no way I—"

"Come here." Tobirama reluctantly steps closer to Madara's desk as the man opens his phone, and starts tapping through it. Tobirama waits patiently, fearful of what Madara might show him. He opens his mouth to speak after a moment, but is cut off by his own voice. Tobirama listens in stunned embarrassment as his own voice begs and moans. He can't believe what he's hearing, but there's no denying it even with the tinniness of the phone speaker. Tobirama feels a spark of arousal pool in his gut as Madara husks out fantasies like no tomorrow from the phone, and it jolts him out of his shock.

He hisses,"Okay! Turn it off."

"Do you remember now?"

"Not quite, but your evidence is convincing enough." Madara frowns, and Tobirama reflects it, redness high on his cheeks. "Why did you record it?" 

"I knew I would need proof to get you to believe me if you ended up being too wasted to remember."

Tobirama nods, casting his eyes to the ground. Madara plants his elbows on his desk, lacing his finger in a tiny bridge to rest his chin as he watches Tobirama. Tobirama sits back in his hips, putting distance between them without actually leaving. He brings himself to meet Madara's stare after a moment. There's a mixture of lust and hope gleaming in them, that makes Tobirama shift again, his vulva throbbing with a tender, syrupy arousal. The stretch from the night before is still aching enticingly as well. 

"So," Madara says eventually, a devilish smile parting his lips. "Does sober you like the idea of being spread over my desk and eaten out as much as drunk you?" 

"I... I..." Tobirama crosses his arms over his chest as if hiding himself from Madara's gaze. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks, "Yes." 

"Get over here then." 

"What?"

"Get over here. We've only got," he glances at the clock, "20 minutes. I've got a meeting with Hashirama after lunch, and I doubt you want your brother to walk in on us because I'm late." 

"Oh, yes, okay, that’s a good point."


End file.
